


Male Reader X Female SCP-049

by CampGreen



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: F/M, Horror, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11857935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampGreen/pseuds/CampGreen
Summary: I know I said I probably wouldn't, but here we are, a third SCP installment, using Gabriel Jade's/the SCP Foundation's SCP-049.





	1. Echo Squad

You sit in the back of the rocking cargo truck alongside nine of your fellow operatives, each well-furnished with tenebrous and navy combat armor and a gallery of the world's finest assault rifles, shotguns, and pistols. You're unsure if your fellow troops are as apprehensive about this whole thing as you are. The goggles and balaclavas completely mask any expressions you could emote with. You're an MTF agent. You've worked hard for this position. You've seen enough in the Army to not be a complete rookie. But this is still your first recontainment mission. You've only really heard whispers and seen glimpses of SCPs, the freakish monstrosities your employers are so obsessed with. You missed out on the squad meeting that prefaced this operation, so now you're completely winging it, which certainly doesn't help much. The truck comes to a halt and the ten of you hop out of the back to be immediately besieged by a light but bitter snowstorm that ferociously eats through your uniforms.

 _"Alright, listen up, men,"_ one of the two passengers, the female captain, barks as they too exit the truck, firm voice tearing through the roar of Siberia's wind. _"We're gonna go over the mission one last time. A few hours ago, the three SCPs housed at Site-16 escaped thanks to a blackout. These freaks of 'nature' include SCP-096, the Shy Guy, SCP-058, the Heart of Darkness, and SCP-049, the Plague Doctor. Two are Euclid, one is Keter, and all are fiercely dangerous. Ate through this site's security like a pack of wild animals, so that's where we come in. The twelve of us will split into three groups of four - Charlie, Delta, and Echo. Charlie has 096, Delta has 058, and the lucky bastards in Echo have 049. You all know the recontainment procedures."_ Except you. _"Move out."_

You at least know what three other men you're supposed to tag along with as the dozen of you split up in your storming of the compound. Your squad goes in through a maintenance lift, lowered into some of the deepest, darkest innards of the Foundation's underground bunker. The floors are grated and the otherwise pitch black halls are seared by the hellish red glow of the emergency cage lights. It's just as cold down here as it was outside, like a hospital but tenfold. Your squad leader directs you and your two fellow grunts with a series of swift hand signals across your alert, unhurried sweep of the labyrinth. 

_"Hey,"_ you whisper to a soldier while the four of you methodically explore the claustrophobic, blackened corridors of Site-16. _"I'm not gonna lie, I don't know the first fucking thing about the SCP we're up against. I don't even remember its designation."_ You feel like the kid in class who didn't study and is trying to sneakily beg the closest nerd to let you cheat off his test.

_"Are you serious? Did you not pay attention during the meeting back at base?"_

_"I was..."_ You drag out an ashamed sigh, pained to admit what you're about to admit. _"I was having trouble in the bathroom, okay?"_

_"Seriously? You're an embarrassment to the Mobile Task Force, you know that?"_

_"Listen, I'm just a guy who has a few years of service under his belt. I'm not the one who promoted my sorry ass to the Force, so don't bust my balls over being human."_

_"Whatever. Alright, the captain called us charmed for a reason. 096 and 058 are absolute fucking monsters, those poor bastards in Charlie and Delta are gonna get butchered like pigs. But us? We have 049. She's not that different from a normal human, capturing her will be like arresting an old lady."_

_"She?"_

_"Yeah, the thing's a girl, so what? Why do all of you incompetent kevlar geeks always get caught up on the SCPs' private parts? Anyways, recontaining 049'll be a walk in the park since she never puts up a fight. Well, unless she's in the middle of 'curing' someone..."_

_"Curing?"_

_"She thinks she's some kind of plague doctor, you know, those raven-looking guys who cleaned up the Black Death back in the 14th century. Might just be a myth but I heard that sinister costume of hers is actually her skin."_

_"Creepy."_

_"Yeah, the only thing you have to look out for is her hands, though. If her hands touch your skin, you're dead, plain and simple. Good thing we're in riot armor."_

Your conversation is interrupted by an infernal mixture of screaming, gunfire, and what sounds like an old British nutjob preaching about absolute nonsense in the distance crackles from out your quartet of shoulder radios, all wrapped and befogged by a bulky coat of static. 

_"Alright, men, double time,"_ your squad leader commands. _"We need to bag 049 ASAP so we can provide reinforcement for Delta, I'm sure they're having a tough time with the Heart."_

Your team's patrol of the facility begins to quicken, but halts when you hear an ensemble of awkward, clumsy footsteps stomping and lumbering from around both corners. You all ready your weapons as shadows swarm around you. 

_"Contact!"_


	2. The Plague Doctor

Two trios of walking corpses shamble at the four of you from both sides in a beastly dash, sandwiching you within a micro-zombie apocalypse. Are these 008 infectees, or something else? All four of you begin lighting the carcasses up with blasts from your firearms, and it cuts a few of them down but a couple manage to tank through all of the lead and get close quarters. The first one knocks one of your teammates straight to the floor with a superhumanly powerful swipe to the head that splats your goggles with blood, and the second sets its sights on you, tackling you to the ground before you can reload your rifle. The animal drools and snaps at your face while it writhes on top of you, but you just barely manage to keep the thing wrestled off your jugular whilst you reach for your sidearm. You ram the barrel into the back of its throat to give it something to chew on and your index finger comes down hard on the trigger, messily blowing its entire head open. 

You shove the re-killed creature off and you're greeted by a trickle of gasoline straight into your eye from the ceiling, sending a jolt of pain through your body. Wait a second, why the hell is the ceiling sprinkling gasoline? Your other eye deduces that the bullet you basically decapitated that zombie with punched all the way through and planted into one of the fuel lines from above, knotted in all of the service pipes. Uh oh. You shield your face as a fireball engulfs the entire hallway. As a soldier, this isn't the first time you've brushed with death, but this time, you're genuinely surprised you awake after that. You stir to the sound of a soothing, womanly hum over gently running water. Its tune reminds you of old church hymns you heard at Sunday school. A voluptious shape drenched in a gothic garment, apparently washing its hands in a sink, stands at the other side of the room, which appears to be a supply closet judging from all of the filing cabinets and storage shelves surrounding you. The sink squeaks off and the figure turns around to greet you. The hood of its inky overcoat casts a shadow upon its face, although a white bird-like mask clearly hangs out from it. 

_"Oh, excellent,"_ a smooth, resonant voice slithers from out the beak, spiced with femininity and an upper-class English accent. _"You're awake. You had been unconscious for such a stretch that I started to worry."_

Your mind is racked by the explosion. You have but a vague grasp of the situation - you're a soldier sent to capture whatever horrors broke out of this gloomy research station. That's all your mind can muster. _"Who are you?"_

_"I believe your peers call me SCP-049. A methodical name that doesn't roll too well off the tongue, but my name, I suppose. After all, who am I to judge how my curators go about their business?"_ You sit up and hold your head in its nasty ache, badly singed by the blast but neatly wrapped in a roll of gauze. _"Oh yes, you suffered quite the injury back there, I'm afraid. For I'm not a medic, I couldn't provide the expert nursing you're likely used to. I had enough sense to patch it up, however, fortunately for you."_

_"Oh...thank you."_

_"No need to thank a woman merely doing her job. I am a doctor, you know."_

_"...Speaking of jobs, doctor, I'm sure you know it's mine to lock you back up."_

_"Yes, I figured as much. I truly do appreciate that you and your colleagues dedicate so much to my care-taking, whilst I never even asked, but it's a shame it can double as an obstacle for my work at times."_

_"Your work?"_

_"Yes, of course, I'm a plague doctor. The Great Pestilence has swept over every crack of the world, and it's my sworn duty to slay it as it has tried to slay mankind."_

_"But the plague ended centuries ago..."_

_"Oh, how delighted I'd be if that were true. But alas, you're mistaken. As a matter of fact, the two injured soldiers I found at your side were poor souls infected by the plague. You needn't worry, however. I freed their bodies from the disease they carried. You're very lucky I caught them before their sickness worsened or, God forbid, spread to you."_

_"What?! What did you do to them?!"_

_"Why, I cured them. Cleansed their souls with surgery. A complex series of slices, injections, and stitches. It's truly amazing what a doctor and her tools can achieve, isn't it? Actually, excuse me, I'm sure I'm coming off as boastful."_

_"But ...you killed them, didn't you?"_

_"I killed the disease that haunted their veins. They're recovering in the next room over, pay them a visit, if you'd like. A word of warning; post-surgery, my patients suffer a few...side effects. Some nastier than others. Do be heedful."_


	3. Cellmate

A monstrous gurgle crawls about the halls the second you exit the supply closet. You flick on your night-vision goggles for a second to reveal three humanoid shapes hobbling right towards you from a few meters away, overlayed with a green filter. You reach for your sidearm but feel nothing in your holster. The zombie steps into the light coming from the closet and it's a splitting image of yourself, except the vest is removed and the military jacket is unzipped to reveal a chest of deathly pigment, with a giant, stitched-up gash down the middle. There's no zombie virus contained at this facility, it was 049's damned "cure" that twisted the site's personnel into the walking dead. 049 peeks her head out from the closet.

_"Is everything o-oh!"_

Your fallen comrade lets out a snarl as he hurls his claw at you with a punch. You narrowly duck it and give him a good kick to the gut to gain some more distance between the two of you. You could probably take him down with your bare hands with enough patience and strength if it weren't for two more closing in right behind him. You seize 049 by the forearm and drag her to the nearest holding cell, not only to complete your objective of getting her recontained but locking yourself up with her too just to escape being ripped to shreds.

_"I could not apologize more profusely, sir. I knew my patients were irritable but I didn't think you would have to lock the two of us in a cubicle in response to their wrath. Perhaps my work on them was sloppy, thus their amplified side effects. From here on out, I'll be sure to make each and every one of my surgeries as unblemished as possible so this will never happen again, I swear it on my life as a doctor, sir."_

You want to tell her so bad that her "job" is just a senseless murder spree that does nothing but produce monsters, but she's probably not even of this Earth. She's far transcended anything resembling reason. Trying to rationalize with her is a lost cause. Plus, despite the insanity she's preaching, you can hear the genuine sorrow in her voice. She truly does believe you're cornered by the reanimated carcasses of your squad-mates just because of one shoddy operation by her hand, nothing more. She sits in the corner of the small cell and mopes, as if you wordlessly grounded her for misbehaving. Her eyes speak her sincere woe as well. In spite of the awesomely creepy aesthetic of a plague doctor, what shines above all of that black leather and white ceramic are those two adorable puppy dog eyes. You walk over to her and place a kiss upon her hood, as a silent sign you're not mad at her. Well, it'd be nice if she didn't kill random people and turn them into zombies, but if not even the Foundation can stop her from doing it, there's no use in worsening her gloom with insults. She gets up, wiping something clean from her eye, and hugs you. You instinctively almost shit your pants but remember her touch of death can't pierce your armor, so you happily embrace. 

_"You're not like the others,"_ she happily sighs. _"The rest are all just callous and belittling jailers who see me as nothing but a wild animal. You're the one person who's been able to see past that..."_

Your hands grow a mind of their own for a second and give her behind a squeeze. Before you can apologize, she provides a helping hand by dropping her pants to her ankles. Seeing this as an invitation to persist, you continue groping her from within the hug. What lies beneath her pants, that you're surprised to learn are even removable, are a pair of breathtaking legs shrouded by her trenchcoat. Despite the inhumanly silvery pigment, they're still that of a supermodel's. Thick, taut, and beautifully shaped, peaked by her crotch as it seeps juice down her thighs. Getting on your knees as you let your pants fall down to them, you kiss every centimeter of skin you can find from top to bottom, dotting her lower half with invisible lip prints. The flurry of smooches started around the outskirts of 049's glistening vulva, and ended at the cuticles of her toes before all ten of them begin tightly hugging your penis as you rest on your back. 

The most human thing about her, her gorgeous, gleaming eyes, dreamily stare in yours. Without saying a word, her pupils communicate a feeling of gleeful bliss as the two of you share a physical love. With her soles steamrolling the many veins bulging out from your member, 049 settles her butt on the floor and expertly digs three of her fingers around in her pussy in a circular motion. Her eyes clench shut and her toes desperately cling onto your shaft as, like a cracked open fire hydrant, a well-aimed stream of crystal clear sap rockets out the bowels of her vagina and showers your dick beating like a heart going into cardiac arrest. The shiny juices now swathing your penis serve as the perfect lubricant for the next half of the footjob, amplifying the pleasure to levels you once believed to be stuff of fiction. Like four party poppers going off one after the other, a quartet of dick shudders sends a volcano-esque shower of cum raining down upon the both of you, accompanied with your one long squeal of pleasure reaching its apex.

 _"I don't mean to guilt, but you do understand these stains will prove permanent to my overcoat, correct?"_ she notifies with a subtle scowl in her eyes as thick drops of cum run down her mask. 


	4. Mission Complete

Heavy eyelids and equally heavy breaths escape your mouth and your head flops down to the floor, completely sapped of energy. Your shoulder radio gets a transmission from the team captain announced by a crackle of interference.

_"Echo! Echo Squad, come in!"_

As your zest begins to renew, you answer the call. _"Yes, ma'am?"_

_"Echo Squad, do you have the Plague Doctor recontained?"_

_"Yes, ma'am, she's a good girl now, that's for sure,"_ you say while you watch in amusement as 049 wrings buckets of cum from her robes with an annoyed glare. _"Unfortunately, I'm the only survivor, and three of her patients have us cornered in a holding cell. I've been locked in here with her for about seven minutes."_

_"Sorry to hear. We've gotten 096 and 058 under control with minimal casualties, but it'll take a while for us to get them nailed down in their chambers. We're sending over a small rescue team, ETA five minutes."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_"Over and out."_

Five minutes. You've got time. You bend 049 over the bed and have all ten of your fingernails dig into the malleable bubbles of pasty flesh that decorate the back of her waist, letting them assimilate your tongue as you bore into her anus and butter it up for a fierce plowing. Now that the pin-prick little thing is moistened by your mouth, you take a firm hold of your flourishing boner and slide about a centimeter of your glans in before it gets stuck from the choke of the opening. With your knob getting lathered by your own saliva from the rimjob's remains, you rack your hips back before thrusting forward with all of your might, punching your dick into the deepest caverns of 049's rectum balls deep. 

For the first and only time the whole encounter, she raises her voice to a shriek of shock, before timidly excusing herself. You can almost see the blush blazing through her mask. You put in about a hundred quick thrusts before you can feel a second cumshot stewing in your nuts. You tear your erection out of her ass and cram it right back into her other hole. Thanks to the cataract of vaginal extract, the next few pounds go much smoother and squishier, until finally the pleasure sends an additional climax detonating from out your dick-hole, inundating her uterus to the lip with cum and surely impregnating a thing that's probably only a mere approximation of a human. The two of you cuddle and spoon atop the bed for the next few minutes of afterglow bathing. 

_"Promise me you'll return to me some day,"_ she breathlessly requests as you lay in her arms. Funny that the only thing standing between you and an instant death right now is a vest.

_"I'll make it happen, doctor, I promise."_

You take a glance at your tactical watch and realize the rescue team will be here any minute now. You both slip back into your clothes right as a pair of your co-workers storm the cell, barrels still smoldering from presumably mowing down your former squad-mates outside.

 _"Damn, you really did have everything under control, huh?"_ one of the two operatives compliments, sounding vaguely impressed.

You shrug with a simple _"Duty calls."_

 _"You've got that gal sitting on her bed as obedient-looking as a dog,"_ the other says as he eyes 049, who quietly watches the three of you from the covers of her cell bed. _"Shit, I wish 058 was as docile as that."_

" _Hey,"_ the first interrupts as he hones in on your fatigues. With the tips of two of his fingers, he sweeps up a fat clump of...oh no. _"What's this white shit all over your vest?"_

_"Uhhh, I ate a glazed donut on the ride here."_

You hear the smallest little giggle come out from under 049's mask. 

_"You eat junk food before you wrangle abominations back into their pins? Whatever, you do you, man,"_ he finishes, wiping the glaze off of his fingers with his comrade's shoulder.

You're tossed a combat rifle and the three of you move out. You manage to slip in a quick wave goodbye to 049 before incarcerating her. The entire unit, now halved by the losses suffered in the breach cleanup, all meet up top side by the truck you arrived in, blizzard only worsening.

 _"Alright men, you better fucking appreciate this speech because my fingers are starting to blacken. I want to personally congratulate the lot of you for your service to the SCP Foundation. Without your elite skill and sacrifice, the world would be a hellhole overrun with freaks like the three we just detained."_ You cringe at 049 being called a "freak" and getting lumped in with those other two. _"The six brave soldiers that gave their lives for the security of humanity will all be given a proper memorial in the following days. In the mean time, back to base, men. And as always - Secure, contain, protect."_

The remaining half dozen of you load back up into the cargo truck. You take one last glance back at Site-16. You'll return some day. You don't know how, but you do know you don't break promises. And if a probably 700 year old, delusional doctor is your only shot at a girlfriend, you bet your own ass you'll hang on and never let go.  



End file.
